


slow increments

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Getting Together, M/M, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:44:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.





	slow increments

The first time he finds Peter Hale in his house with his underage son, John pulls his gun on instinct.

The wolf is leaning against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets, everything about him unassuming, unthreatening.

John didn't buy it for a heartbeat.

Stiles was arguing with Derek and didn't notice his father's entrance or the sudden appearance of his sidearm, and as he took in the scene, took in Stiles loose comfort and lack of tension, he slowly put it away. Before he left, he glanced at Peter.

Ice blue eyes stared back, assessing.

 

~*~

 

Derek Hale becomes a fixture at his house, and Peter Hale seems to follow his nephew like a particularly stubborn mosquito. He accepts it. Derek has proven himself dangerous and protective, and John thinks Stiles needs both of those things trailing in his wake, to survive the supernatural shitstorm that never seems to let up.

It doesn’t mean he _likes_ either of the Hales.

Especially when he overhears Peter and Stiles sniping at each other, the way Peter is over the top flirting, the way he laces innuendo with every leering smirk and sarcastic comment.

Stiles always rolls his eyes and shoves Peter aside, and if it makes John’s heart drop, watching his son so carelessly at ease with this dangerous creatures, he keeps that to himself.

 

~*~

 

“Get _out_ ,” Stiles snarls, and John’s eyebrows go up.

He’s heard Stiles short tempered and irritated, sleepy and amused and fond--but he rarely hears Stiles truly _angry_ and he is.

Right now, he is.

Erica makes a whining noise, before she’s pulled away by Derek, the alpha muttering to the wide eyed, angry wolf.

He moves toward the kitchen and hears Peter. “Stiles,” the ‘wolf murmurs.

“It--it was Mom’s,” Stiles whispers. “I don’t--I know it’s stupid--”

“It’s not, sweetheart,” Peter says, gently, and he hears his son sniffle.

Tears and rage and laughter always linger just under the surface, exposed by the lightest pressure, in his boy, but it’s never failed to make his heart break, listening to Stiles cry.

He leans around the doorframe and his heart _aches_ because Stiles is being held by Peter, and Claudia’s favorite apron is ripped, hanging limp and wrong on it’s hook.

Stiles’ shoulders are shaking and hsi face is hidden in Peter’s chest, but the wolf’s eyes gleam blue, bright with hurt, helpless anger, and John watches him for a long time before he steps away.

He tells himself it’s a pack member caring for another.

He believes it, too.

For now, he believes it.

 

~*~

 

Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.

And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.

He’s always known that his son was unique, that it would take a special kind of person to love him. Stiles was loud and abrasive, cruel when it suited and clung with a ferocity that only someone who had experienced deep loss _could_ cling. He was not easy to love, or to be loved by, and John had come to terms with that, early.

Had known that it would be hard for Stiles to find someone in high school who valued him for exactly what he was.

Stilinskis’ loved deep and long, and most of the flighty silly kids in his school would never accept that kind of love.

But when he watched Peter watching Stiles, he thought that maybe Peter saw the wonder and worth in his son.

There is a part of him that hates it, that wants it to be anyone but Peter fucking Hale.

But there is a part of him that is fiercely glad, that someone like Peter fucking Hale would chose Stiles.

 

~*~

 

Peter is a killer.

John knows that, knows exactly how far he will go to protect or avenge the people he considers his.

It’s one thing to _know_ and another to see Peter carrying Stiles into his kitchen, his boy limp and unconscious, and Peter bloody, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl.

“You have to put him down,” Derek murmurs, his voice low and soothing, and John isn’t sure how Derek can remain that calm when Peter is shifted and covered in blood and snarling over Stiles’ limp body.

“You have to put him down so we can help him.”

Peter stiffens and John winces as those sharp claws tighten on his boy’s hips and ribs--but then the tension bleeds out of him, and takes the shift with it, and Peter carefully relinquishes his precious charge.

Melissa and Deaton swarm in, and Peter, the wolves, John himself, are bumped aside,

He finds himself next to Peter, watching, gaze never leaving Stiles’ pale face, as they stitch the boy back together.

 

~*~

 

It doesn't surprise him, much, anymore, seeing Peter with Stiles.

They fit. He sees other things too--sees the baffled longing in Derek that fades into quiet contentment.

Sees the way Scott watches, anger brewing in his dark eyed.

Sees the way Lydia surveys them like a judgement, quietly pleased.

He sees the way other people in town watch, sharp judgment and wagging tongues and he smiles, because Stiles is vicious when protecting what's _his_ and Peter is.

John isn't sure when he stopped minding.

 

~*~

 

Sometimes, he sees something in Peter that scares him.

The icy rage when Stiles is hurt--it reminds him this man who has slipped so carefully into Stiles’ life is a predator who has never hesitated to kill.

He sees it when Stiles is bleeding after tussling with a pair of redcaps and after he's cursed by a witch and after a boy at the Jungle spikes his drink and John doesn't ask what happens to those people.

He doesn't want to know what happens to the idiots who hurt his son.

Especially since Peter is only doing what John would like to do himself.

Still--sometimes he sees that fury in Peter and it’s raging helpless, while Stiles stands still and shattered.

Peter would, John knows, burn the world for Stiles.

He would kill for Stiles and not lose a moment of sleep.

But he won’t do anything to _hurt_ Stiles, and hurting Scott--that would destroy him.

John watches, as Peter chokes back the fury, watches his helpless anger when Stiles is hurt by the boy he calls brother, and he thinks that Peter is a good man.

 

~*~

 

He sees Peter when Stiles isn’t paying attention.

The way Peter is always turned toward Stiles, even when he’s doing something else. The way he reacts, instantly, sometimes before even Stiles realizes something will upset him.

The way his gaze goes soft and and helpless, adoration painted clearly on the ‘wolf’s face.

He sees the love, pure and bright and undeniable, that he never expected to see from Peter Hale for his son and when he does, he sighs and thinks--there’s nothing to be done to stop this, to stop them.

Because he sees something else.

 

~*~

 

He sees Stiles.

Watching the wolf, wary and hopeful.  

He sees Stiles, offering a hesitant hand when no one else will treat him like pack.

He sees Stiles talking to Peter on the phone, a tiny distracted smile on his lips.

He sees the cookbooks Stiles doesn't let anyone look at open while Peter peers over his shoulder.

He sees the way Stiles leans into Peter, when he's exhausted, the way he doesn't flinch away from his touch even when he's hurt. He sees the way he almost preens under that touch.

He sees the way Stiles’ eyes narrow dangerously when someone disparages him and the violent rage that took him when Peter was nearly disemboweled by a harpy.

He sees the way Stiles reaches for Peter without thinking about it, the way his gaze strays to him when he is lost in thought.

He sees a smile, small and helpless that makes his heart ache, and he closes his eyes because it's what he always wanted for Stiles.

John wanted Stiles to love someone as much as he loved Claudia and he watches Stiles smile at Peter the way Claudia smiled at him--and he knows his boy has found that kind of love.

 

~*~

 

When he sees Stiles, half asleep and leaning on Peter, a vivid bruise on his throat and his lips swollen and pink--and he sees Peter, his gaze guarded as he watches the Sheriff from Stiles bed, his hands possessive as he soothes the boy back to sleep--

John nods, and says quietly, “Take care of him.”

He doesn’t need to hear Peter say he will. He can already see it.


End file.
